


夢 蝶  •  butterfly dream

by flrthans



Category: Stray Kids (Band), 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Bungou Stray Dogs!AU, Dazai-Typical Suicide Mentions (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai-Typical Suicide References (Bungou Stray Dogs), Disturbing Themes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everyone Is An Asshole, Except Jisung is Dazai, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Han Jisung | Han-centric, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, JYPE is Port Mafia, M/M, Manipulation, Minho POV sometimes, Minor Character Death, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, cameos of other idols, minho - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:01:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24269389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flrthans/pseuds/flrthans
Summary: 夢蝶 /mèng dié/ (adj.):a dream of being a butterfly; fantasy-like, unusual; once-in-a-lifetime.—Jisung’s finger stalls on the cool glass all of a sudden, and he stares at a particular piece of information he’s been given, unable to make any sense of it. The notes jotted down around it start to fade out, but Jisung ignores them, having already memorized the rest. He can’t connect this to anything at all. Where it starts, where it ends — there’s nothing, nothing he can trace it to, just emptiness.That’s why everything feels off, Jisung realizes. Because this integral part of the puzzle, it’s not even a part of the puzzle at all. This whole thing, it’s not a puzzle, it’s a chess game. One that they don’t even know they’re playing.He’s going to get to the bottom of this. And he’s going to start with Lee Know and whatever induced him to don a fake name, change his identity, and erase his past…Lee Minho, son of Park Jinae, the daughter of Port Mafia boss Park Jinyoung.The daughter who died after leaving the organization twenty years ago.—(Or, Han Jisung is bored of the world. Lee Minho may be the only thing that interests him.)
Relationships: Bang Chan & Han Jisung | Han, Han Jisung | Han & Everyone, Han Jisung | Han & Hwang Hyunjin, Han Jisung | Han & Yang Jeongin | I.N, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Hwang Hyunjin/Kim Seungmin, Lee Felix/Seo Changbin
Comments: 30
Kudos: 59





	1. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so ,,, this is the first-ever fanfic i’ve written with such a huge scope. i really hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i enjoy writing it! 
> 
> be warned though, this is pretty dark and not for the faint of heart. i wanted to write a mafia au that reflects the atmosphere of the real mafia, meaning that it’s not going to be light. the themes here are pretty intense, so please read the tags carefully!
> 
> alright, now on to the story <33

The first time he kills someone, Jisung is nine years old.

  
  


The first time he kills someone, it’s around thirty people at once. He feels nothing — no remorse, no guilt. Nothing but apathy.

  
  


The first time he kills someone, Jisung stands alone outside a manor, watching as it goes up in flames, and tosses his lighter away.

  
  


_What a waste of effort_ , he thinks dryly. 

  
  


With one last glance at the godforsaken gilded _cage_ he grew up in, Jisung turns away and leaves.

  
  
—  
  


_ten years later._

  
—  
  


As Jisung flicks through the report, he feels the man sitting opposite him get restless. He can’t blame him, honestly — from what Jisung can recall, it’s the first time this particular low-level grunt has been assigned to bring anything to him, and anyone worth an inkling of their family’s profits knows his name, and the reputation that comes along with it.

  
  


Finally, delicately, Jisung closes the file and places it back on the table. “This strategy proposal. Who wrote it?”

  
  


“N-not me.”

  
  


_God, humans are stupid._

  
  


“I _know_ it’s not you,” Jisung says patiently, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m not interested in half-answers. Who wrote it?”

  
  


“It was...it was a guy named Son Seung-shik, Han-ssi.”

  
  


He nods. “Thank you, you may be dismissed.”

  
  


The man hurries out of the room, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste, and Jisung has to bite back a laugh — guy must’ve been smart enough to deduce that the Port Mafia’s youngest Lieutenant in history was called the Demon Prodigy for a reason. Smart enough, but also incredibly foolish at the same time. 

  
  


After all, no one with an ounce of brain cells would deliberately lie to him. 

  
  


Jisung picks up the papers and looks at the text again, at the additional notes written in neat lettering around the margins, at the highlights and circles and underlines notated in red ink around the black print. 

  
  


It’s so, so obviously not Son Seung-shik’s work.

  
  


Idly, Jisung brings his phone out of his pocket and shoots a text across to Changbin, who seems to find amusement in the fact that one of the Port Mafia’s dogs would even think about lying to Jisung, and waits patiently for confirmation that the man, as well as Seung-shik himself, have been captured and taken to the special interrogation rooms.

  
  


Having a reliable executive on his side, Jisung finds, is quite useful. Especially when said executive is in charge of covert ops.

  
  


With a sigh, Jisung pulls his coat back on and heads to the interrogation center, checking in with Momo at the counter. Like always, she knows exactly what he wants without him needing to say anything.

  
  


“Room 325.”

  
  


“Ah, the usual then.”

  
  


Jisung gingerly shakes his coat off and hands it to the girl. “Might get a little messy,” he says by way of explanation, and Momo responds by handing him a pair of surgical gloves. “A blindfold, some tweezers and a fishhook should do it.”

  
  


As Momo hands over the tools, she eyes him once and sighs. “Try not to leave too much blood on the floor, it’s a hassle to clean up.”

  
  


“Of course.”

  
  


They both know the request has a very low chance of actually being fulfilled.

  
  


Reveling in the fact that his victims are undoubtedly quivering at the sound of his footsteps, Jisung strides towards room 325, the unmistakable click of his sturdy heels against the tiled floors echoing down the corridor.

  
  


The door slams shut behind him, the iron hinges rattling in place, and the two men stare up at Jisung, eyes wide and pupils shaky.

  
  


Call him a psychopath, by all means (since he probably is one anyways), but Jisung feels nothing but blank emptiness even as he looks back down at his unfortunate subordinates as he pulls on the tight latex gloves and picks up the tweezers. Long ago, Jisung’s fingers used to shake while Chan instructed him in torture methods, with rival gang members as tools; long ago, Jisung used to wake in his sleep as the screams of those he harmed haunted him in unceasing nightmares; long ago, Jisung used to be human, used to cry and scream and fear and sob and _feel_.

  
  


Even now, the nightmares remain, but Jisung is no longer human.

  
  


Basking in the terror emanating from the two older men, Jisung kneels down and lets the tension wash over him, familiar and almost (not quite, but _almost_ ) comforting. If he was lucky, these two would be stubborn — that would be a lot more fun. It’s a shame that most of his victims usually concede within ten minutes.

  
  


_Boring_.

  
  


“Son-ssi,” Jisung drawls out slowly, carefully examining how the tweezers glint in the bright light, “have you ever heard my nickname?”

  
  


He glances up in mock surprise when the man doesn’t answer. “Right! Oh dear, how incredibly forgetful of me. I forgot to take off your gag!” With that, Jisung rips off the gag with the fishhook, and a smile creeps across his face uncontrollably as the man screams in pain, a good chunk of his flesh torn from the rough metal.

  
  


“‘Demon Prodigy’,” whispers Jisung, loud enough for both of them to hear. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors. I’m quite fond of the nickname — it does sound cool, doesn’t it? Plus,” he adds, “I did earn it myself. Unlike your pathetic attempt at mooching off someone else’s hard work.”

  
  


“Did you really think you could mess with me?” 

  
  


Jisung clamps the tweezers around one of Seung-shik’s fingernails. 

  
  


Before he can tear out the fingernail, however, Seung-shik pulls away, eyes panicked and face pale. “W-wait, I have an Ability, you can't afford to lose me! If you do this — if you do this, I’ll leave the mafia — ”

  
  


The scream when his nail comes off is an ugly one, rough and shrill, one that sounds like scraping fingernails across a blackboard. Jisung decides that he doesn’t like Seung-shik’s scream, not at all, and steps back, reaching inside his coat.

  
  


“Leave the mafia,” Jisung drawls in disinterest, clicking off the safety as he aims his gun at the man one-handedly. “No, I don’t think so.”

  
  


This time, it happens all too fast for Seung-shik to even open his mouth.

  
  


With a sigh, Jisung steps back from the puddle of blood beginning to form on the floor and stows his gun. “So,” he directs at the other man who’s shaking in his bonds, “are _you_ interested in telling me who wrote this report?”

  
  


—

  
  


_Bang._ Jisung steps out of the interrogation room, gingerly pulling the gloves off his fingers to avoid touching the blood on them. Like paint, blood is always difficult to wash off, and he doesn’t want red-stained hands while he’s on a job or anything. That would be inconvenient, after all.

  
  


To his amusement, a janitor is already standing outside with a set of cleaning equipment, ready to enter the room as soon as Jisung leaves. 

  
  


Momo truly knows Jisung’s…information gathering techniques a little too well.

  
  


As per usual procedures, Jisung disposes of the dirtied materials and makes sure to reload his bullets at the counter, then walks back towards his office. It’s curious just how much information a man will spill when given the right encouragement — within five minutes, Jisung has Lee Know’s name, position, residence and Ability all texted to Changbin.

  
  


Most likely, he’ll be able to meet Lee Know tomorrow.

  
  


It’s been a while since he’s seen a report-slash-plan from a lower-level mafia member he didn’t have to make significant improvement on, Jisung muses as he lets himself flop onto the sofa, staring at the ceiling. Last time that happened was from a girl named Shin Ryujin, who, as far as he knew, was now one of the leaders of the Black Lizard, the elite stealth troops of the Port Mafia. 

  
  


Before that, it was…

  
  


“HAN JISUNG!”

  
  


The Demon Prodigy blinks, the picture of complete innocence, and glances upward at Seungmin. “Hm?”

  
  


“Don’t you fucking dare act cute with me,” the expert hacker hisses, marching over to haul Jisung off the sofa and roughly tugging him into the air by the collar. “Where the FUCK did you hide my charger?”

  
  


Jisung grins. “What a bold move, dropping the ‘hyung’! Now, why would I know what you’re talking about?”

  
  


Knowing that prying further wouldn’t work, Seungmin sighs and sets him down. “What do you want from me.”

  
  


“If I say a romantic candlelight dinner?”

  
  


“Don’t be ridiculous, stop deflecting. Besides, I have someone else in mind. I’m sure you remember, _hyung_.”

  
  


“Oops!” Jisung says cheerfully. “Must’ve slipped my mind.”

  
  


Seungmin rolls his eyes. “Hyung, you know what’s the most annoying thing about you? You take ten hours to get to the point.”

  
  


“Alright, alright,” Jisung placates with a casual wave of his hand, then leans down, folding his hands on top of each other. “I need to know what’s going on with my resources.”

  
  


Though Seungmin’s expression doesn’t change, Jisung can see from how his eyes shift darker that he’s not fond of the idea of telling him. “What do you mean?”

  
  


“Did the execs,” Jisung says mildly, walking over to his desk to flip through the papers, “really think we wouldn’t notice if whole stashes of weaponry from my storage centers started blowing up?”

  
  


_Flip._

  
  


“If the drug imports we usually get suddenly cost less and weigh less?”

  
  


_Flip._

  
  


“If, all of a sudden, our brothels start to go up in flames one by one?”

  
  


_Flip._

  
  


“If one of our fellow Lieutenants _died_ during what was supposed to be an _easy_ reconnaissance mission?”

  
  


Jisung lets the papers flutter to the floor and turns back towards the hacker. “Cut the crap, Seungmin. Tell me what’s going on.”

  
  


“And why should I? I could always get a new charger. I’d much rather dish out a little money than put my life on the line because I let someone know a bit more information than they should.”

  
  


Hmm. It was to be expected. Seungmin wouldn’t give in so easily, after all.

  
  


Jisung pulls himself up to sit on top of the desk and crosses his legs. “What if I told _dearest Jinnie-hyung_ that you’re part of the reason his precious darlings are dying? He wouldn’t take kindly to it, I’m sure.”

  
  


“Y-you wouldn’t,” Seungmin breathes out. “You can’t link me to what’s going on in the brothels.”

  
  


“Or can I?” Jisung shrugs, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Hyunjin’s my best friend. It’s very likely that he’ll believe me, and well…Minnie, I don’t think you want him to hate you by any means. Right?”

  
  


Seungmin barks out a bitter laugh. “You’re a bastard, you know that right?”

  
  


“I hear it quite often, yes.”

  
  


“Fine,” the taller boy concedes. “I’ll tell you. Follow me.”

  
  


They tread down the corridors, heading to what Jisung guesses is Seungmin’s office. As the Port Mafia’s best computer expert, Seungmin’s position hovers somewhere between Executives and Lieutenants, acting as their highest-level information broker and spy. He’s the only non-Executive with the authority to access everything in the organization — all the information, all the files, all the locations they have; no matter how confidential they are, they’re no secret to Seungmin.

  
  


(They’re no secret to Jisung either, but no one needs to know that.)

  
  


Seungmin closes the door lightly behind them, walks over to his desk, and sits down as he activates the multiple screens on the walls. Jisung follows close behind, looking over his shoulders at the main screen.

  
  


“I won’t start explaining if you don’t give me the charger.”

  
  


Well, why not. Jisung hands Seungmin the charger, and as soon as he connects his phone to it, Seungmin starts scrolling through the main screen.

  
  


“Okay. So, a few months back, Chan-ssi started to notice some...flaws in the weekly reports Executives receive. Not planning flaws,” Seungmin added, “just some small discrepancies in numbers. Small ones, barely noticeable and easily passed off as accidents or mistakes, but enough that in the long term, the damage done to our finances would be significant.

  
  


“Obviously, he reported this to the head, and the head told everyone with Level S clearance about it. Namely, all the execs and spies of my level. Which means me.”

  
  


Jisung bites down a laugh at that. “Of course you’d say that.”

  
  


“WHAT?”

  
  


“Oh, nothing!”

  
  


Delivering a glare at Jisung, Seungmin nevertheless turns back to the screen, pulling up the records for Jisung to see.

  
  


“Anyways, a few months later, I received information from an acquaintance claiming that another gang’s starting up on the other side of Hangang River. They’ve been growing at a rapid pace, and I sent in someone to infiltrate the organization. Apparently, weirdly enough, a lot of the stuff they have is the exact same as the stuff we’ve lost.”

  
  


Jisung’s gaze hardens as he scans through the files. “They’ve been stealing from us.”

  
  


“Yes. Unfortunately, they’ve only grown bolder and more influential since then. Plus, apparently they have an extremely powerful Ability user on their side. A level SSS Ability user, in fact.”

  
  


“Not a problem for me,” Jisung snorts derisively.

  
  


The hacker rolls his eyes. “Yes, yes, you nullify all Abilities. You think the execs don’t know that? Problem is, from what I’ve heard from the spy, this Ability user is also very very strong in actual physical combat. Unlike you.”

  
  


Jisung gasps dramatically and puts a hand over his heart. “Oh, Minnie, how you wound me so.”

  
  


“You’re so full of shit,” Seungmin mutters, loud enough on purpose so that Jisung can hear. “Anyways. It’s not just about the Ability user. It’s about the boss too. Bottom line, Boss refuses to do anything about it until they do something drastic. Till then, neither of us, nor any of the execs, can do anything about it, and I would strongly advise you to follow what the boss says.”

  
  


_So, even the boss is scared of this person, huh?_

  
  


Whoever it is, they must be terrifyingly powerful. 

  
  


As he bids Seungmin goodbye (“Good riddance, fucking asshole!” “Well, that’s not a very polite way to address your hyung — ” _“Get out!”_ ) and heads back to his office, Jisung pauses and looks outside the window pensively. Something about this story…it doesn’t feel right. Seungmin isn’t lying, he knows that much, but the information itself…something is very, very, wrong. What exactly it is that unnerves him so much, Jisung doesn’t know, but he does know that the information is not right. 

  
  


They don’t have any of the right puzzle pieces in their hands.

  
  


Jisung turns away and heads back to his office, mind racing. No matter what, he’s going to get to the bottom of this. And he’s going to start with Lee Know and whatever induced him to don a fake name, change his identity, and erase his past…

  
  


Lee Minho, son of Park Eunhye, the daughter of Port Mafia boss Park Jinyoung.

  
  


The daughter who died after leaving the Port Mafia twenty years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to keep up with the story, remember to subscribe!! also, follow me on twitter @starluvrji to scream at me about skz


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some (relatively) soft jisung for a change :DD

“Checkmate.” Chan knocks over Jisung’s king, his smile not quite reaching his icy eyes. “Sungie, you’re getting better and better at this.”

  
  


Jisung stares back at him expressionlessly, eyes just as piercing and just as cold. “You say that every time we play, yet I still haven’t been able to beat you yet.”

  
  


They hold each other’s gazes for a few moments, until the mafia executive closes his eyes in satisfaction and looks down, before raising his gaze. “Didn’t you expect that? I’m sure you’re smart enough to realize you’re not quite at my level yet. Challenging you is indeed slightly more intellectually stimulating than usual, but I haven’t even needed to use my full capabilities on you once.”

  
  


With that, Chan scratches the nose of his pet fox (currently curled up around his shoulders in a deep slumber) and starts to clean up the table, letting Jisung lean back on the armchair and think about what had gone wrong during the match. _Reflection time,_ the Executive called it, _for self-improvement._

  
  


Not that there were usually many reflections Jisung could usually make…except understanding that he was simply and truly outclassed.

  
  


Of course, Jisung had known. As Chan’s protégé, he still has a long way to go before he can harbor any hope in facing his mentor in a battle of wits and coming out victorious. It’s almost fun, in a way, knowing that the twenty-two-year-old man is Jisung’s intellectual match and more.

  
  


Interacting with Chan almost makes Jisung feel a sort of enjoyment about this dull, painful existence. 

  
  


Jisung closes his eyes and allows the icy warmth of Chan’s apartment to wash over him, knowing that it’s all nothing but a façade to lure his opponents into a false sense of security.

  
  


How many deaths has this armchair seen?

  
  


They sit in relative quiet for a while, the only sounds coming from the chess pieces knocking against each other as Chan tidies them up, as well as the flames crackling in the electric fireplace. 

  
  


“The boss is getting old.”

  
  


At the lieutenant’s words, Chan pauses from clearing up the chess pieces and glances at him, face unreadable. “And?”

  
  


Jisung shrugs and leans back. “It was an observation.”

  
  


Chan sighs. “We’ve been over this before. We don’t have the power yet.”

  
  


“You’re plenty popular.”

  
  


“Watch your words, Jisung,” Chan warns, eyes glinting with danger. “I won’t remind you again.”

  
  


Even Jisung, stubborn as he is, knows when to drop a topic. “Any news, hyung?”

  
  


Chan hums.

  
  


“What do you want to hear?”

  
  


_He’s too good at reading me._

  
  


“Alright,” Jisung concedes. “Why did you and the other higher-ups hide that someone’s been stealing from us? Did you not expect us to find out?”

  
  


Leaning back on his armchair to mirror Jisung’s position, the mentor smiles. “Finding out was just a matter of time. As for why we did it…Innie, would you mind?”

  
  


The fox napping peacefully on Chan’s shoulder hops off onto the floor, materializing into a teenage boy as soon as his feet touch the ground. It’s not surprising to Jisung anymore — he’s seen Chan’s Ability in action many times over.

  
  


Yang Jeongin doesn’t quite seem real. Maybe it’s the perfectly wavy chocolate brown hair, maybe it’s the too-bright eyes, maybe it’s the uncannily foxy smile. Maybe it’s the fact that he literally glows golden. His proudest work, Chan calls Jeongin, his only creation that has become their own person out of hundreds. To Jisung, Jeongin is a little brother, too pure and untouched for the world they live in; untainted white snow amongst blood and dirt.

  
  


In fact, Jisung knows clearly that it makes no sense at all for him to feel this sense of affection towards Jeongin, a boy who isn’t a real boy by any means, a boy who can neither live nor die (until Chan himself dies), a boy he knows has too much blood on his hands.

  
  


It’s funny how the only person Jisung feels any sort of real emotion towards isn’t even human.

  
  
  


—

_eight years ago._

_—_

  
  
  
  


A knock on the door. 

  
  


Eleven-year-old Han Jisung glances at the door disinterestedly, not even bothering to say anything. It’s not like he hadn’t expected this to happen from the start, anyways. From the moment he engineered his capture, to right now, sitting on the floor of a cell and waiting for the one person he wanted to talk with.

  
  


The door starts to creak open, and Jisung decides he might as well speak up to stop whoever it was from bothering him. 

  
  


“Unless you’re the person who caught me, I’m not saying anything.”

  
  


Finally, the door opens fully. A blond boy looking barely older than Jisung himself steps out, leather jacket hanging off his shoulders, power emanating from every inch of his being. “Well then, you’re in luck.” He smiles, the expression not quite reaching his cold, empty eyes.

  
  


_His eyes,_ Jisung realizes with a start. _They’re…they’re just like mine._

  
  


_Maybe he’s the one who will finally give me life._

  
  


“Who are you?” Jisung whispers. “Are you the one who will save me?”

  
  


The boy tilts his head and scans Jisung, eyes roaming over his features, before settling on the handcuffs enclosing his hands. “Save you?” he snorts. “Kid, people like us can’t be saved.”

  
  


“Besides,” he adds, turning to leave, “we’re stray dogs. No one wants to save us. Especially not a runt like you.”

  
  


Jisung can’t help but laugh. “A runt?” He stands up and clicks his fingers. With a clink, the handcuffs slide off and hit the floor. “I’m not weak. Isn’t that why you wanted to catch me? Because I’m stealing your stuff and you can’t deal with that anymore? Kill me. Isn’t that what you want? Kill me! I don’t want to live anymore! It’s all the same! I know exactly what’s going to happen all the time and I hate it! I hate how easy it is! Everything, the patterns, frameworks, systems, everything is so stupidly, mind-numbingly boring! You don’t have any problems with killing people, so please, just kill me already and get this over with!”

  
  


_Wow…I haven’t spoken this much in a long time._

  
  


The room is silent. Jisung’s chest heaves with anticipation as he stares at the boy in front of him, who slowly turns back around to look back at him. “Han Jisung, isn’t it?”

  
  


Out of breath, Jisung nods.

  
  


“My name is Bang Chan.” He holds out a hand for Jisung to take, and he does, hesitantly shaking it once. “Jisung, want to know a secret?” The man doesn’t even wait for Jisung to respond before continuing. “Dying is easy, kid. Living is harder.

  
  


“Of course,” Chan adds, gesturing for Jisung to follow him out of the cell, “maybe one day, if I feel like it, I’ll kill you. Until then…” He grins at Jisung. 

  
  


“I feel like we’ll have some fun with each other, no?”

  
  


A week later, Jisung passes Chan’s initiation test, massacring a low-level criminal organization at age eleven.

  
  


A week later, Jisung gets his first tattoo and becomes the newest recruit of the Port Mafia, as well as its second youngest squad leader in history.

  
  
  
  


—

_a few months after._

_—_

  
  
  


Park Jaehyung barges into Jisung’s dormitory, panting hard and sweat staining his shirt. “Han-ssi, have you seen a fox anywhere?”

  
  


Arching an eyebrow, Jisung puts down the comic book he’s been reading. (How irritating, he was at the point where Oikawa arrived on the court. Jisung quite liked his character.)

  
  


Nevertheless, he can’t help but be amused at the absurdity of the situation. “A fox? Why the fuck would there be a fox in the compound?”

  
  


“First off, young man, watch your language, you’re literally twelve, and second off, I don’t know, but it messed up all the documents in my room and now I have to reorganize them again or Sungjin will be after my neck! Damned fox,” Jae curses as he rushes out of the room and runs back along the corridor, seemingly asking everyone he meets if they’ve seen whatever fox he saw.

  
  


Jisung stares after him blankly. “Some people really need to learn how to shut the door.”

  
  


Standing up from his seated position on the bed, Jisung suddenly notices a small snout poking in from the door crack as a tiny creature enters the room.

  
  


_It’s a fox,_ Jisung realizes with a start.

  
  


And it’s…really fucking adorable.

  
  


Careful not to scare it, Jisung tiptoes around the little fox to close the door and lets it explore the room before it settles on the bed.

  
  


This warm feeling in his chest. It confuses him.

  
  


Suddenly, the fox shifts into a little boy who looks like he’s eight or nine years old, piquing Jisung’s interest. An Ability, maybe?

  
  


“I’m sorry,” the boy gasps. “Please let me stay. A man is really mad at me, but I didn’t mean to make his office messy, I swear! Please let me stay, Chan hyung says I shouldn’t make anyone mad and he’ll be so disappointed when he finds out!”

  
  


For someone in the mafia…he’s surprisingly innocent-looking.

  
  


“Sure,” Jisung says with a shrug. “I don’t care. My room is pretty big anyways.”

  
  


The boy looks like he’s about to cry of joy. ( _Please don’t,_ Jisung implores internally. _The only way I know how to deal with people crying is a gun and murder threats._ ) “Thank you, hyung! I’ll try not to bother you…”

  
  


With that, exhausted, the boy slumps over and starts to doze off.

  
  


Jisung kneels down on one knee and studies the boy’s face. His face resembles his animal form, and the boy gives off the slightest golden glow akin to the color of the fox’s fur. A sense of protectiveness washes over Jisung as he watches the fox boy snore peacefully, like a baby but a lot less annoying.

  
  


How does having a sibling feel like?

  
  


“Alright,” Jisung says quietly. “You’re gonna be my little brother from now on.”

  
  
  
  


—

_present day._

_—_

  
  


Jeongin hops over to Chan’s desk and opens one of the drawers, bringing out a folder and tossing it over to Chan, who catches it easily.

  
  


“Here’s a folder. I reckoned you would figure it out soon enough, so I prepared this in advance. It’s full of all the information I have on the matter. Read this and come back to me tomorrow — I feel like we will have the same views on the matter,” Chan says, offering the folder to Jisung, who accepts it readily.

  
  


Tucking the folder inside his jacket, the lieutenant hums. “Thank you. I got the gist of it from Seungmin, though. There’s something odd about all this.”

  
  


Chan nods. “You feel it too, huh.” 

  
  


_Should I inform Chan about Park Jinae’s son being in the Port...no. It’s good information to keep to myself._

  
  


“Penny for your thoughts?”

  
  


Jisung looks at Chan and smiles. “Wasn’t thinking much. But could I borrow Innie for lunch later? I’ve heard there’s a new dessert shop in town, and who else to check it out with than my cutest lil bro?”

  
  


“Stop calling me that, I’m not nine years old anymore!”

  
  


“Hmm.” Chan doesn’t quite look like he believes Jisung, but thankfully chooses to drop the matter. “Sure. Just be careful.”

  
  


“Why are you both ignoring me!? Don’t I have a say in the matter!?”

  
  


—

  
  


“Bye, Innie!”

  
  


After he waves off the fox boy, Jisung walks into the nearest alley. “You know, for the head of covert ops,” Jisung muses, “you’re not very subtle, Binnie. Why are you stalking me?” At this, Jisung lets a mischievous grin stretch across his face. “Do you have a crush on me or something?”

  
  


The shorter man drops down from the fire escape, trench coat fluttering from the impact, and crosses his arms. “You wish. I was trying to get your attention all throughout your date with Jeongin.”

  
  


“Ew.” Jisung pulls a face. “Don’t call it a date. That would be like incest, and that’s no fun! Besides, I want a nice pretty girl to have a double suicide with one day ~ ”

  
  


“You and your obsession with suicide,” Changbin snorts. “I really don’t get you. When was the last time you tried it? Yesterday, wasn’t it? Hyunjin told me you bought toadstools to try and poison yourself. News flash, you’re way too hard to kill for _that_ kind of thing to actually make you die.”

  
  


Jisung pouts. “You wound me, Binnie hyung ~ I just want to die comfortably! Oh, how sad, being betrayed by my closest friends! What tragedy!”

  
  


“You bastard, do you want the information on Lee Know or?”

  
  


The lieutenant blinks. “Oh.”

  
  


Changbin sighs. “Right now, he’s waiting in your apartment, as promised. I don’t know why you asked for us to deliver him there, but it’s not my job to ask. As for his information, even though I’m sure you know much of it already since Momo was complaining about you making a mess in the interrogation rooms again and it’s pretty obvious that fuss was about Lee Know, I’ve left a file under your bed.”

  
  


“I never knew Changbin hyung had a brain,” Jisung says with an exaggerated gasp. “Wow, I should report this to the boss! I’m sure he’ll be delighted to know — ”

  
  


“CAN YOU SHOVE OFF?”

  
  


“No! ~ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jeongin u precious lil babie. protect at all costs.


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hyunjin ,,, i am sorry. i love you.

The folder Chan had given Jisung didn’t contain anything except a few records notating the Port Mafia’s resources, as well as the names of the sectors involved in the issue.

  
  


Did Jisung expect anything else? No, not really. As far as he knows, Chan has a pretty good awareness of the scope of Jisung’s analytical ability, meaning he probably understands that Jisung has a solid grasp on everything already. A folder containing too much useless information would be unnecessary.

  
  


Anything other than that means it’s a test. Which, Jisung supposes, it probably is. In fact, chances are, the entire reason that the boss hasn’t called for a full-blown war against this rival faction is that Chan’s hiding information from him. 

  
  


The times don’t match — by the time Chan had told the other executives and the boss, which would’ve been a few months ago, from what Jisung had noticed, this ‘gang’ would’ve been active for at least a year. Now, there was no way Chan hadn’t seen how their resources have been vanishing reliably since last year, especially when he’d sent Jisung on a scouting trip to Japan handling one of their overseas weapons suppliers just around the time stuff started going missing.

  
  


Chan is looking forward to the war. _No, not exactly,_ Jisung muses, he’s not just looking forward to it. He’s fanning the flames.

  
  


Now, Jisung isn’t a stranger to the executive’s multitude of experiments. He’s been subject to them quite a few times himself. When Chan carries out an experiment, he doesn’t care about the collateral damage, just the findings. This could very well be one of them. What kind of hypothesis he wanted to make, Jisung didn’t know, but this could very well mean Jisung’s death. Wars aren’t exactly safe.

  
  


Good. Maybe, after all this time, Jisung’s finally going to die.

  
  


Unless Chan is planning to save him again and use him as a pawn for the, what, fiftieth time? 

  
  


_Ha, of course. He won’t let me go that easily. We’re the only ones who can understand each other, after all._

  
  


Scoffing at the thought, Jisung walks around the corner, heading into a street plastered full of posters and stands showing half-naked women. Scantily-clad boys and girls line the street, either drinking and flirting with men in formal dress or glaring at the ones who were. None of this is off-putting to Jisung, of course — his best friend runs some of the best brothels in the city’s red-light districts, after all, so this is all just routine.

  
  


Speaking of his best friend…

  
  


Jisung sighs and takes his vibrating phone out of his pocket, ignoring the predatory gazes of the people around him. He shouldn’t have dressed so nicely today.

  
  


“Hyunjin, which bar have you headed off to this time?”

  
  


“The one at the end of the street — ” the corner of Jisung’s eye twitches as he hears overly affected giggling on the end from his best friend’s voice ( _is he not done with recruiting clients yet_ ) — “has a huge red poster with a cat furry girl in front of it. Humongous ass and boobs, definitely photoshop or plastic surgery. Can’t miss it!”

  
  


The line goes dead.

  
  


While Jisung will admit Hyunjin is good at what he does (his brothels make up a quarter of the Port Mafia’s income alone), it’s definitely inconvenient for Jisung himself, especially when he hangs out with Hyunjin so often. The amount of times he’s walked in on Hyunjin and his clients…

  
  


With a sigh, Jisung drags a hand down his face. So long as the Port Mafia still operates brothels, he’ll have to put up with this. 

  
  


At least Hyunjin is a good conversation partner.

  
  


“Ah, there’s the cat furry girl.”

  
  


—

  
  


The bar is pretty noisy, filled with people grinding against and humping each other, drinking their sorrows away, making out in every corner of the room; humans trying to chase their most primal urges, losing themselves in the heat of the moment, uncaring about the consequences (mostly, the pain they’ll have to go through next morning).

  
  


Why are they satisfied with a high that will never last? Jisung will never understand. It’s a shame alcohol never seemed to have much effect on him. However, they’re all just fucked-up people in the end — in slightly different ways, sure, but really, they’re all the same.

  
  


Then again, the reason why shady bars like this still get traffic is probably because all these morons are addicted to this temporary fulfillment — the excitement they find in illusion of attaining their desires as it drags its flaming fingers down their flesh and bones, burning them alive with their own inane fantasies and discarding them in the morning light, simmering embers who haven’t even noticed they’ve been turned to ash from it all.

  
  


Hmm, actually, the Port Mafia should look into opening some of these. There’s nothing the mafia does better than preying on human yearning, after all.

  
  


But. First things first.

  
  


Hwang Hyunjin.

  
  


Jisung spots a staircase leading to the second floor and takes it, the wooden steps creaking with every step. It leads into another room, almost just as noisy, and Jisung can just make out Hyunjin’s signature red fishnets and thigh-high combat boots as he straddles another man.

  
  


The wallet Hyunjin is currently teasing out of the man’s pocket doesn’t escape Jisung’s notice.

  
  


“Hi, Jinnie!” Jisung says with a bright smile as he taps his friend on the shoulder, startling Hyunjin into (almost) dropping the wallet he’s holding. “We should leave.” He nods at the exit.

  
  


Hyunjin shoots him a scowl and leans down to kiss the man one more time (Jisung makes sure to avert his eyes), using the chance to deftly pocket the wallet as he does. “Fine, I’ve had my fill today anyways. Let’s go.”

  
  


As they head towards one of Hyunjin’s main brothels — one he’s actually in charge of — Hyunjin sighs and wipes the smeared gloss off his lips.

  
  


“Fuck, I really hate people. They’re so _horny_.”

  
  


“Eh. I hate people too.”

  
  


“You’re not the one whose Ability gets stronger feeding off external sexual energy!”

  
  


Jisung looks at Hyunjin and bats his eyelashes. “That’s not my fault, is it?”

  
  


“Honestly, fuck you.”

  
  


“Well,” Jisung says as Hyunjin looks in his pockets for the key, “at least you’re powerful.”

  
  


Hyunjin laughs. It’s a bitter sound, one that Jisung isn’t unused to. All the Port Mafia’s dogs are stuck in the same situation anyways. “Power and a pretty face. Jisung, you and I both know it’s the only two things keeping me alive.”

  
  


“Exactly!” Seeing the opportunity, Jisung pounces. “Which is why you should just commit a double suicide with me!”

  
  


The taller boy snorts. “Not a chance. Besides, don’t you want to do that with a girl?”

  
  


“You’re pretty enough, it doesn’t matter ~ ”

  
  


“Man, you’re hopeless.”

  
  


The door swings open, and the two walk inside. Since the brothel is closed for the night and there are no more clients, Hyunjin’s darlings are fixing themselves up, delicately removing their thin silken bathrobes and, if necessary, dabbing alcohol on wounds where a client may have scratched too hard or leaving ice on bruises. Hyunjin prides himself on taking care of the darlings in his brothel well.

  
  


It’s not obvious, but sometimes Jisung can see just the slightest hint of protectiveness in Hyunjin’s eyes when he gazes at his staff. Working in a brothel is the most vulnerable job there is — Hyunjin himself had confided in Jisung once that back when he himself had been a mere brothel darling as a young teen, he’d seen far too many things that someone at that age should’ve ever seen.

  
  


Perhaps it’s out of this protectiveness and experience that Hyunjin deliberately chooses to take on the roughest clients himself. It’s no coincidence that sometimes, he arrives at a Lieutenant’s meeting, dark bruises on his limbs hidden beneath heaps of concealer and barely able to stand.

  
  


It’s no coincidence that sometimes, during said meetings, Hyunjin’s Ability — Hyunjin’s _sexually charged Ability_ — gets so out of hand that he needs Jisung to subdue him with his nullifying power.

  
  


Jisung may not feel much emotion, but he holds an incredible amount of respect for Hyunjin. His best friend is the strongest person he knows. There are two people Jisung cares about in the world; next to Jeongin, Hyunjin’s the only one Jisung actually considers a friend.

  
  


“Hey, Daehwi,” Hyunjin calls out to one of the boys running around delivering supplies. “Can you come with us for a sec?” 

  
  


From the mafia’s member files, Jisung recognizes him as the medic of this particular brothel. Every single Port Mafia brothel has one as clients can be really rough on the darlings, and well, the darlings are the brothels’ sources of income. Daehwi is one of the youngest, but he’s good, which is why he was chosen to work in a major brothel. That’s what Jisung’s heard, at least.

  
  


It doesn’t change the fact that Daehwi’s main patient will always be Hyunjin for as long as the taller boy still has a pretty face.

  
  


They follow Hyunjin into a closed-off room at the side, presumably the medical room. In itself, the room is nothing special, just cream-colored walls, a bed and some shelves (of course, there’s also some confidential files on each of the clients here, but that’s not what Jisung’s looking for right now).

  
  


“How many was it today?”

“Uh, tried around five in total, but I only got to the actual act with three.” 

  
  


With a nod of understanding, Daehwi starts to rummage around on the shelves for some pain relief medicine while Hyunjin props himself up on the bed.

  
  


Really, if he were anyone else, Jisung would tell Hyunjin to take better care of himself, but he knows Hyunjin wouldn’t listen. The man cares far too much about his darlings. And that Ability…the boss likes Hyunjin’s powers way too much to let go of them. After all, with those powers, Hyunjin was able to assassinate thirty of his enemies all across Seoul in one single night.

  
  


“Golden Demon,” Hyunjin whispers.

  
  


With a golden flare, a glowing ghostly apparition of a woman in a _hanbok_ appears, white mask pulled over her face and katana unsheathed, floating in the air.

  
  


“Protect this place.”

  
  


The apparition nods and vanishes into thin air, most likely hovering above the brothel, ready to kill anyone who could threaten its safety.

  
  


Daehwi walks over with a jar of lotion and two pills, letting Hyunjin take the painkiller medicine while he applies the lotion on Hyunjin’s bruises. As soon as he’s done, Daehwi leaves the room and gently shuts the door behind him, leaving the two best friends to talk in private.

  
  


“There’s something urgent we need to talk about. Why the brothels are burning.”

  
  


Eyes darkening, Hyunjin attempts to stand up, only to wince and lie back down. “Tell me.”

  
  


Jisung nods. “Need to make sure no one can listen in. Do you have a pen?”

  
  


“Plus a notepad. That desk over there.”

  
  


When he’s finished, Jisung hands the notepad over to Hyunjin, who scans the pages, a murderous aura starting to emanate out of him. “So, are you saying, these dogs are trying to hurt my brothels? And no one’s attempting to stop them?”

  
  


“Yes. In fact, they’ve expressly been forbidden to.”

Neither of them say it out loud for fear of making it so much more _real_ , but they both know what Jisung’s trying to imply. 

  
  


_Everyone’s been banned from intervening…and that includes you._

  
  


The tension in Hyunjin’s body give out and he stares at the ceiling blankly, shoulders shaking slightly from furious laughter. “I guess it’s true,” Hyunjin muses, voice sharpened with steel, “that no one cares about a bunch of whores.”

  
  


“Hyunjin — ”

  
  


“No, no, it’s okay,” Hyunjin says, turning his gaze onto Jisung. “Brothels are called whorehouses for a reason. I’m just a fucktoy who kills. That’s all I — ”

  
  


“All you are?” With a tilt of his head, Jisung drops his mild expression for his natural, dead one, and his best friend’s eyes widen as he tries to hold Jisung’s stare. Dimly, Jisung notices that the temperature seems to have dropped a few degrees. “Don’t,” whispers the Demon Prodigy, “ever insult yourself like that. I wouldn’t be friends with you if that’s all you are. Don’t insult my taste in companionship.”

  
  


They stare at each other for a few moments, tension freezing them in place, and finally, Hyunjin breaks Jisung’s gaze and sighs. “Alright. Are you going to stop me from meeting my clients tomorrow?”

  
  


Jisung shrugs. “Why would I? You know your limits, and I wouldn’t be able to stop you anyways.”

  
  


“Good…choice.” Hyunjin heaves himself up from his bed. “I’m going to charge up Golden Demon with every inch of power I can get for when our boss finally decides to confront whoever it is.”

  
  


Just as he’s about to leave, Hyunjin pauses and looks back. “I’m going to massacre every single one of them.”

  
  


The door slams shut.

  
  


_…I know._

  
  


Sitting in the quiet of the medical room, Jisung sets fire to the notepad, watching it crumble to ash in his fingers as the flames blaze gold.

  
  
  
  


—

_eight years ago._

_—_

  
  
  


“Chan hyung, where are we heading?”

  
  


“Well, Sungie, it’s my turn to do the monthly check on the brothels this time, so I thought I’d bring you around.”

  
  


They reach a large building that looks a little like a Korean _hanok_ -style house with two red lanterns hanging at the sides of the entrance, and Chan walks in, Jisung following closely at his back, both of them taking off their shoes and placing them on the shoe rack at the side, exchanging them for flat cotton slippers. The door closes behind them, and Jisung’s suddenly aware of the warmth inside the building.

  
  


Around them, there’s quite a few people milling around — pretty boys and pretty girls in nothing but silken bathrobes long enough to reach their ankles, carrying themselves with controlled, trained grace. Some look like they’re nearing their thirties, while others look like they’re barely fourteen — Chan’s age. Most look exhausted (though they’re good at hiding it, Jisung’s simply better at observing), and every so often, their elegant masks slip just a little, whether it be by a wobble in their step, or a wince as they brush against someone else.

  
  


The brothel ‘darlings’.

  
  


As Chan speaks with the manager, Jisung finds himself wandering off through the corridors of the brothel. It looks incredibly normal, almost like exploring a hotel decorated in a traditional style, and even the smooth wooden planks feel nice for his feet. From what he’s heard from Chan, although the moans and groans of the clientele’s pleasure are perfectly audible in the corridor (to Jisung’s abject dismay), the rooms are apparently very soundproof themselves — no one can hear anything from the other rooms if they’re inside. A pretty handy trick for such a packed brothel to have.

  
  


Suddenly, a red light switches on in front of one of the doors at the end, and Jisung abruptly recalls that it’s the signal for the manager to intervene when the darlings hit the panic button. 

  
  


_Fuck,_ realizes Jisung with a start. _The manager is speaking with Chan. If anything happens, they’ll blame him. And, just because I came here with him, they’d torture me, too. I don’t like pain._

  
  


Bursting into the room, Jisung quickly scans the area, pulls out a gun, and plants two bullets in the client’s head.

  
  


“Why’d you kill him?” the boy screams, not even trying to cover his naked body with the bloodied blanket. He’s really beautiful, Jisung observes, with sculpted features and a toned body. Looks around his age, maybe a year older at most. Probably the youngest darling he’s seen so far.

  
  


Jisung stares blankly at the boy, not understanding why he asked a question with such an obvious answer. “You pressed the panic button.”

  
  


“B-but don’t they usually just give them a tranquilizer or something? He might’ve been an important client! What if Mama gets angry? She’s really, really, scary, and she might kill me, and…”

  
  


“Relax,” Jisung interrupts. “That client was definitely not important. Firstly, that suit on the floor — normal, office worker-level fare. Not branded. The watch on that nightstand might look expensive — ” at this, Jisung can’t help but scoff in derision — “but the workmanship is terrible. The leather strap is so obviously fake that it hurts, and they didn’t even spell the brand name right. Guy probably paid the minimum price for entry. Now, what did he do to you?”

  
  


The boy tears his eyes away from the corpse on the bed to look back up at Jisung, trembling. “I don’t — I don’t know what to do, this is my first time…He…he only paid for oral, but he tried…he tried…”

  
  


“I understand. Don’t say anything more, you might go into shock. What’s your name?”

  
  


“Hwang…Hwang…Hwang…”

  
  


_He’s going into shock._

  
  


Well, that’s not good.

  
  


Suddenly, a ghost in hanbok appears behind the boy, forcing Jisung back with a swing of its katana. 

  
  


An Ability — !

  
  


With his nullifying ‘No Longer Human’ power (that’s what Chan calls it), Jisung would be able to suppress it easily, but…it’s the first time he’s seen an Ability besides Chan’s. It would be interesting to see how it works — besides, Abilities can’t hurt him anyways. 

  
  


Okay, it’s probably the poor boy’s first time activating it, judging from how unaware of his Ability he seems to be. A defensive mechanism, since he looks like he’s having a panic attack, which means it’s an Ability that can act on both orders and the subconscious. Manifest-type, like Chan’s. Abilities are active since birth. If this is the first time the boy’s activated it, the conditions of awakening it must not have been fulfilled before.

  
  


What are the possible conditions? A panic attack? No, Jisung dismisses the thought immediately. No Manifest-type activation conditions would directly harm the User. These kinds of powers…don’t come from nowhere, so that’s why they’re also referred to as Transmutation Abilities. When Chan sculpts using marble and fully dips them in paint of a single color, his creations come to life. That means Hyunjin’s Ability also draws its power from something. Murder? Violence?

  
  


Or…sex.

  
  


_That’s not something I can test,_ Jisung realizes in disappointment. _Time to release the boy, then._

  
  


The katana does admittedly look threatening, but knowing it won’t work on him helps Jisung approach Hyunjin and tap his thigh gently. Besides, it’s not like Jisung’s scared of death anyways. He’s been seeking it since day one.

  
  


Once Jisung’s finger touches the boy’s skin, the Ability vanishes in a blue flash of light, and Hyunjin collapses to the side. Over-exhaustion, most likely.

  
  


Jisung sighs and dials Chan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D
> 
> (pls don’t hate me)


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is probably the longest so far? hope y’all enjoy it <3333

—

_present day._

  
  
—  
  


By the time Jisung actually gets home, it’s around three in the morning.

  
  


Having been trained by Chan to sleep around one and a half hours a day if absolutely necessary, it’s really not that tiring. The way home had been perfectly smooth, with no complications whatsoever, and while that might be a good thing for most people, Jisung was so utterly _bored_.

  
  


Now, Jisung’s entirely aware that these fatalistic tendencies could be described as ‘unhealthy’ to some. But honestly? He couldn’t care less. And even if something had happened, chances are Chan would’ve pulled him out of there intact anyways, since he wouldn’t want to lose a perfectly functional pawn. (Jeongin would argue that Chan actually cares for Jisung; Jisung knows that Chan ‘cares’ for Jisung the same way a scientist cares for his ongoing experiment. Not that he minds. It’s entertaining to both of them.)

  
  


With a yawn, Jisung unlocks the door and flicks the light switch. Hopefully Changbin didn’t starve Minho. It’s been around…twelve hours? Poor guy.

  
  


Jisung takes his shoes off and walks inside, tossing his jacket onto the dining table as he passes. This apartment is pretty minimalistic, so it doesn’t matter how messy he is — there’s barely anything in it, after all.

  
  


When he reaches the bedroom, Jisung quietly opens the door in case Minho is still knocked out from whatever drug Changbin gave him. Hmm. Actually, from now on, it would be safer to refer to him as Lee Know — his identity would be a trump card if Jisung ever needed to blackmail him. The son of a traitor, back in the Port Mafia? While Boss might spare him out of grandfatherly love (internally, Jisung scoffs at himself), the Executives might not be so generous. Especially Jaebum.

  
  


Chan, of course, would just delight in the chaos and take notes, like the mad strategic genius he is, before stepping in at the last moment to solve the problem and gain even more of the boss’s favor.

  
  


It’s probably all part of his mentor’s plan to usurp the boss one day. Probably. 

  
  


Yeah, probably.

  
  


Jisung quietly pushes the door open to take a look at Lee Know. Still unconscious — whatever drug Changbin gave him must’ve been a powerful one. Jisung scans the man’s physique: well-toned, slightly taller than him (that thought irks him for some reason), and a pretty face that wouldn’t look out of place amongst even the highest-ranked brothel darlings, right up there with Hyunjin. Considering Hyunjin is the prettiest person Jisung has ever encountered, that’s not a run-of-the-mill compliment. 

  
  


Jisung makes quick work of Minho’s bonds, releasing him from them in a quick slash of his penknives. The man’s chest gently rises and falls, and Jisung studies him a little more before lifting up the mattress a little, just enough to slip his hand underneath and grab the file underneath before heading back outside. Chances are, Lee Know will be hungry by the time he wakes up, and Jisung certainly doesn’t want his new plaything to starve to death.

  
  


After ordering takeout (Jisung honestly hadn’t expected that delivery services would still be operating even at three in the morning, but it was a welcome surprise), he leans back on the sofa and closes his eyes, letting the ambience of silence wash over him. Sometimes, he likes being left to his own thoughts; it’s one of the times his mind is the clearest, one of the times he can really shuffle through the many ideas and the information his mind seems to store away every day. Talking to Chan is also effective in this regard, but whether Chan’s actually willing to discuss is usually another matter entirely.

  
  


Lee Minho, son of Park Jinae. Why did Park Jinae leave? Why had Minho come back to the Port Mafia? How had he survived when the Boss had ordered all their forces to search for Jinae when she left, leading to her demise? Who was — or is — Minho’s father? For once in his life, Jisung can’t quite make sense of the connections. He’d deduced Lee Know’s true identity quickly enough, but his motivations, his goals…all that is a complete mystery.

  
  


_You interest me, Lee Know._

  
  


Dissecting Lee Know is going to be a challenge, and Jisung likes challenges, especially when said challenges are dangerous and most likely life-threatening to solve. After all, death is always a welcomed byproduct.

  
  


Jisung heaves himself off the sofa and heads into the bathroom, deciding to have a quick shower before the takeout arrives to clean off the smell of blood and beer on his clothes in case the deliveryman is particularly perceptive, which would cause a problem because having to kill someone on his doorstep would be inconvenient to clean up and cover. Of course, Jisung doesn’t really care about the actual act of killing or the man’s life, but unnecessary effort put into something perfectly avoidable? Just the mere thought annoys him.

  
  


The warm water runs over his body and wets the bandages tied around his arms and wrist. It relaxes the built-up tension in his muscles, creating a peaceful rush of sound as the droplets hit the floor, slowly unraveling the bandages, the loosened strips falling to the marble floor around his feet. Jisung starts to draw on the steamed-up glass — it’s the safest way he can visualize information out of his own head, the words ingrained in his mind as they fade away yet invisible to everyone who comes after.

  
  


Impermanence. A thing of beauty.

  
  


Jisung’s finger stalls on the cool glass all of a sudden, and he stares at a particular piece of information he’s been given, unable to make any sense of it. The notes jotted down around it start to fade out, but Jisung ignores them, having already memorized the rest. He can’t connect this to anything at all. Where it starts, where it ends — there’s nothing, nothing he can trace it to, just emptiness. _That’s why everything feels off,_ Jisung realizes. _Because this integral part of the puzzle, it’s not even a part of the puzzle at all._

  
  


_No, not a puzzle. This whole thing, it’s not a puzzle…it’s a chess game, one that we don’t even know we’re playing, because that’s the way our opponents designed it. Even this hint was planted, me figuring this out was planned. Chan not stepping in — they planned it too, and because Chan doesn’t have this hint, he doesn’t know he’s being played. Who the hell is this?_

  
  


Staring at the glass as it steams up again, Jisung hurriedly turns off the shower and tosses on a bathrobe, exiting the bathroom immediately with his mind whirling. This is something he has to deal with on his own, because it’s too risky to involve anyone else.

  
  


There is a traitor in their midst. The Port Mafia is in severe danger.

  
  


—

  
  


When Jisung steps into the living room, Lee Know is standing in the middle. Sculpted features, a princely aura — ironic, given his bloodline — and brilliant eyes, filled with something Jisung can’t quite place. Now that he’s awake and in good lighting, Jisung can gather that he’s about twenty-one years old, slightly younger than Chan. Currently looking extremely confused as to why he’s in a stranger’s apartment, not that Jisung can blame him. Being kidnapped is pretty disorienting.

  
  


The man finally seems to register that someone is standing behind him and turns around. For a moment, he furrows his eyebrows, and Jisung observes him as realization seems to dawn on him and he scrambles backwards.

  
  


“Han Jisung-ssi?”

  
  


“Interesting.” Jisung cocks an eyebrow. “You know my face?”

  
  


Lee Know opens his mouth, pausing only for a split second before answering. “I’ve seen you sometimes, when I pass by my superiors’ offices.” _Quick-witted,_ Jisung notes. He’s able to pin the blame on someone else while clearly withholding information to the extent that it remains believable. 

  
  


A nice try. Unfortunately, it’s not believable enough to fool Jisung. For one, just by passing by the offices, he wouldn’t be able to recognize Jisung, even if he caught a glimpse of his trademark bandages. Added onto the fact that Jisung knows of Lee Know’s endeavors into the Port Mafia’s classified files (to be honest, he’d been pleasantly surprised about the older man’s skills when he found that Minho was the one behind all this by referencing the times Seungmin complained about a strange user from an untraceable IP address attempting to access their most protected networks and matching them to the times when Lee Know had rest or sick days), there’s no way what he’s telling is the truth.

  
  


The Demon Prodigy hums and steps around Lee Know, heading right towards the kitchens. “Would you like a drink? Tea or coffee?”

  
  


“T-tea?”

  
  


“Alright, just hold on a little bit.”

  
  


Five minutes later, the two of them are seated at the dining table, Jisung with his instant coffee and Lee Know with his tea, shifting uncomfortably in the chair.

  
  


“Cheers.” The mugs clink against each other, the clear sound ringing through the silence, and they both take a sip. Jisung angles the mug away just enough so that he can see Lee Know’s face — surprisingly enough, the man does know how to school his expression, but there’s a slight window of hesitation as he brings the mug to his lips (suspicion of poison, probably). That is all the confirmation Jisung needs.

  
  


_If I use him right…if I get him to trust me enough…Lee Minho is reasonably clever, has good survival instincts and technological capabilities, and on top of that, he's secretly the grandson of the Boss. He’ll be a very useful pawn indeed._ Internally, Jisung smiles at himself, though he keeps the perfectly neutral mask on his face. Chan would be proud.

  
  


Carefully setting down the mug, Jisung leans forward and stares directly into Minho’s eyes. It’s the most effective way to unnerve someone, so he’s found; not everyone (read: barely anyone) is comfortable with the blank, empty, _dead_ eyes that Chan and Jisung share. After all, not everyone can deal with facing the eyes of a mass murderer who thinks nothing of life except as a burden and a commodity. 

  
  


Not everyone can deal with facing the eyes of someone who thinks of human lives as dogs’.

  
  
—

_fourteen years ago._

_—_

  
  
  


Five-year-old Han Jisung closes the book and sighs, looking out of the library windows as lightning flashes and watching the rain pound on the frosted glass, accompanied by the soft rumbling thunder that follows soon after. Bored, bored, bored. Everything is so inexplicably _boring_ and he doesn’t know why.

  
  


With a yawn, Jisung climbs out of his seat and tosses the copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ aside, his small arms struggling to heave himself off the armchair. 

  
  


Jisung doesn’t understand the book. His brother Younghyun said it was good, but the book…there’s so much in it that’s nonsense. Why are they so fixated on ‘love’? Is ‘love’ a special thing? Maybe it’s because he’s never experienced this ‘love’ thing that he can’t understand what the book’s on about. Maybe hyung does, Jisung should ask him later.

  
  


Still, this ‘love’ thing intrigues him. Why are the characters so drawn to stupidity under the guise of what they call ‘love’? Does ‘love’ make people stupid? If that’s the case, Jisung promptly decides to never fall in love. He doesn’t want to be stupid.

  
  


The door creaks open and Younghyun peeks inside with a smile. “Jisung! Have you finished it? Do you like it?”

  
  


Jisung stares blankly at his brother as the older boy walks inside and props himself on the table right across from him. “It was…” he hesitates, scouring his mind for words to put his thoughts in. At age five, his vocabulary (according to Younghyun, at least) was already equal to that of an adult’s, but he still needed to think sometimes, to not offend anyone by being too blunt. Not that he usually cares (he does it anyways, since it’s fun watching people react), but his brother is different from the rest. “…It was okay. I don’t understand it much, though.”

  
  


His brother smiles at him. “It’s okay, you don’t have to. And,” Younghyun adds hastily, as though he already knew what Jisung was about to ask, “I won’t tell you about it, either. It’s something you find out on your own.”

  
  


Jisung’s mouth closes, and he frowns. “What if I never do?”

  
  


“Don’t worry, you will.” The confidence in which Younghyun says it isn’t quite enough to convince Jisung, but he shuts up anyways. Like this, the siblings sit peacefully for a few minutes, both watching the lightning crackle and illuminating the dimly lit room, until Jisung breaks the silence.

  
  


“Younghyun-hyung…if you knew you’d be removed from the official line of heirs...why did you fall in love?”

  
  


His brother turns to look at him before hopping down from the table, then he skips over, light on his feet as he usually is, and plops down on the armchair Jisung was sitting in a while ago, pulling Jisung down from his standing position and into his lap.

  
  


“It’s not something you can control.” The answer doesn’t surprise Jisung, but the directness with which Younghyun delivers it does. “It sneaks up on you,” his brother explains, “creeps up and knocks you out and before you can stop it, and when you finally realize, you’re too late.” He smiles, bittersweet. “I loved someone I shouldn’t have, and I couldn’t stop myself from loving that person. That’s why I’m not the heir anymore.”

  
  


Jisung snorts. “Heir to what? An old book and this stuffy house?”

  
  


His brother’s eyes harden. “Jisung-ah, that ‘old book’ you’re talking about has more power than all the people in the world combined.”

  
  


“Yeah, mother and father told me once that the book changes reality. But what’s the deal about that? Life is boring and predictable enough anyways, imagine actually knowing what’s going to happen forever! It’s just stupid!” Jisung rolls his eyes. “We’re all going to die anyways, none of us really matter to the fate of the world. Every one of us, we’re just slaves to our ideals. We’re all just grains of sand in the river of time. It takes us where we’re going to go, and in the end, nothing in this life matters. Isn’t that why people try to have fun in life? Everything is destroyed in the end. As powerful as the book is, it can’t change that.”

  
  


Jisung can’t see Younghyun’s face from his seat on the older boy’s lap, but he can feel his brother trembling a little before bursting into full-blown laughter. 

  
  


“Ah,” his brother gasps out finally, in between chortles, “almost forgot how fucking cynical you are, kid.”

  
  


“I read about it. It’s nihilism, I think.” Jisung pauses to rethink his words. “Well, maybe not. Nihilism wants to destroy things. I think I want to test things more than destroy them, so I might not be — ”

  
  


“Hey. Jisung?”

  
  


Jisung’s attention snaps back up, and he stares up at his brother. 

  
  


“You’re a smart boy. Maybe a little too smart for your own good. But.” Younghyun pauses, and Jisung listens. “Not everyone is as smart as you are. People are selfish creatures; they think for themselves, speak for themselves, act for themselves. And when they’re not smart enough to see all the consequences, they do stupid things. Like falling in love, for example.”

  
  


At this, his brother’s mask slips for just a second and his eyes seem to dull a little from a deep sadness, a kind that Jisung’s never seen before. For a moment, just by looking into those lightless eyes, Jisung feels like he’s suffocating, being sucked into a black abyss of inescapable sorrow.

  
  


Curiously enough, it reminds him of himself.

  
  


“Oh, it’s almost six o’ clock. Father’s probably looking for me. Correctional sessions, and all that. You know the drill.” Younghyun laughs, his mask put right back on, and gently lowers Jisung to the carpeted floor before standing up. “Well. Keep reading. Don’t get into trouble, okay?”

  
  


Jisung stares blankly at his brother, then shrugs. “Okay.”

  
  


_Correctional sessions,_ their father calls his daily ‘meetings’ with Younghyun. What a joke. Jisung knows all too well that the sessions are for nothing more than torture and brainwashing. All because Younghyun fell in love once? Was it because love made people stupid? He doesn’t understand.

  
  


It was one of their servants, Jisung recalls, one of the kitchen boys, around the same age as his brother, who had been sixteen at the time (he himself had been three). Father had been unreasonably furious when he’d found out. Why, Jisung doesn’t know; however he does have a few guesses, most of them involving the source of the book’s power being centered around love, or lack thereof. Perhaps the only way to own the book was to never love.

  
  


At the very least, that would explain his parents’ relationship.

  
  


Jisung mindlessly scans through a few other books his brother recommended — _Younghyun’s truly a hopeless romantic, isn’t he_ — and moves on to the next stack. By the time he’s gone through all the books his tutor has prepared, the clock has struck midnight, and Jisung pads back to his bedroom with an ever-growing sense of mundanity festering within him, dragging his footsteps along. Every day was so predictable, every day was so boring. He knows it’s unhealthy, but sometimes Jisung wants something — anything — bad to happen to him, just to see how it turns out.

  
  


Not that Jisung would try to commit suicide or anything. Planning and executing it would be really annoying when the house had cameras everywhere. Besides, he doesn’t even want to die _that_ much. Maybe that might change one day, but not right now. There’s plenty of stuff he wants to learn about still.

  
  


Lying on his back, the mattress barely giving way to his light body, Jisung stares at the ceiling, not even bothering to pull his covers over himself. The room is a large one, since the Han family is pretty wealthy even by elite-sector standards, and Jisung is their heir, allowing him access to a lot more than other children at his age.

  
  


Granted, not many children his age are the same as he is (certainly nowhere as gifted), but Jisung does appreciate his privileges. Most of all the library.

  
  


The soft light of the moon shines through the windows, and Jisung rolls over to look outside, admiring the way the stars glitter in the sky. He’s always loved the stars — they remind him of how insignificant all humans are in the universe, nothing but lost grains of sand floating along the river of time, to be carried by the flow of events in history with barely any autonomy of their own no matter how much they pretend to have authority. It’s funny, in a way, how much humans like to lie to themselves.

  
  


(Humans are fascinating creatures. Yes, Jisung might be one of them, but he just finds studying them so interesting.)

  
  


Jisung gingerly reaches out with an open hand, pretending to clasp the full moon in his little fingers, eclipsing the white light. The soft rustle of fabric against his skin as he does so echoes throughout the silent room, and Jisung lowers his hand, just watching the clouds pass by.

  
  


How beautiful, the night.

  
  


A dog barks in the distance all of a sudden, breaking through the sheet of quiet pulled over the mansion. Judging from the loudness, it’s probably one of their servants’ pets, Jisung deduces as he walks over to the window and looks down at the poor dog. What a shame. It’ll be killed for disrupting the peace now.

  
  


Not even a second later, two gunshots ring out and the dog collapses. What Jisung presumes to be a guard runs over to collect the corpse before too much of its blood spills onto the grass, hurrying back to the mansion as quickly as possible. Jisung can’t help but let out a laugh as he recalls one of his father’s lessons: _All people are dogs. Stupid, emotional, replaceable, but useful. All you need to learn is how to tame them._

  
  


Jisung turns around and yawns, then flops back onto his bed. 

  
  


Funny. He’d never thought he’d agree with his father on anything at all.

  
  
  
  


—

_present day._

  
  
—  
  


“So.” Jisung leans forward expectantly. “Why do you think I called you here?”

  
  


_More like kidnapped, really, but it doesn’t matter._

  
  


“I’m not — I’m not sure if I fol — ”

  
  


With a sigh, Jisung dislodges the front page of Lee Know’s report from under the table where he’d taped it beforehand and places it on top. “Do you know who wrote this?”

  
  


Lee Know hesitates, obviously unwilling to divulge any information for whatever reason. Of course, Jisung’s done his research — there’s a guy in the lower ranks named Lee Felix, and from some other people he interviewed, the two were apparently close, and joined the mafia at the same time. Felix was one of Son Seung-shik’s subordinates, and Seung-shik had probably seen Minho’s analytical ability in action one way or another, taking advantage of it to threaten Minho into writing the proposal for him.

  
  


Since Minho had eventually done it, Felix was someone unreasonably important to him. Lying to a mafia lieutenant isn’t an easy thing to do, and Minho must know that, seeing as he’s, frankly speaking, not stupid. Therefore, Minho and Felix must’ve been together even before they joined the mafia, an idea enforced by the fact that they’d arrived at the same time. 

  
  


This Felix character was someone Jisung needed to look into more. For that to happen, he needed to keep him safe. Making a quick choice, Jisung makes a mental note to shoot a text to Changbin, who would probably (albeit reluctantly) agree to his suggestion given enough incentive, and Jisung could easily blackmail him by threatening to release the clips of him singing in the shower to his subordinates. There, problem solved.

  
  


However, one issue worked out doesn’t mean another one is. Either Jisung can immediately inform Minho of his friend’s safety, or he can have a bit of fun first.

  
  


He’s Han Jisung. Of course he chooses the latter.

  
  


“Your friend Felix is safe, you know,” Jisung says casually. _Well,_ he mentally corrects himself, _he isn’t yet, but he probably will be...soon._ Anyhow, Lee Know doesn’t need to know that. “And I’m kind of disappointed you didn’t answer my question. Don’t worry,” Jisung says, looking off to the side to appear off-hand as he can be while still keeping an eye on Lee Know so that he can gauge his reaction, “I already know you wrote the report for Son Seung-shik.” 

  
  


Lee Know startles at this, evidently surprised that Jisung knows about Felix, and Jisung smiles at him innocently. “It’s okay, it was a good report. Join me at eight o’ clock sharp tomorrow morning, not that you have a choice since you’re here. I want to see if you can be useful.”

  
  


A shameless lie. He already is useful — Jisung just needs to maximize it. As long as Chan doesn’t interfere, everything will go as planned. (Somehow, Jisung kinda wants Chan to interfere. Precisely for that reason, he knows that Chan won’t, because the executive never does what Jisung wants him to. Jisung’s pretty sure that he does it on purpose to annoy him.) 

  
  


The doorbell rings, and Jisung pushes himself out of his chair to grab the takeout. “I gather you don’t have an intolerance to gluten?” A shake of the head. “Al-right,” quips Jisung, drawing out the first syllable as he opens the door to greet the delivery man.

  
  


Jisung accepts the plastic bag, eyes catching the words ( _“Johnny Suh” — is the man American?_ ) written on his nametag as the cash exchanges hands. As Jisung lets the guy fumble with the money, he checks the contents of the bag, confirms that it’s what he ordered, and as soon as the delivery man leaves, he turns back around and offers the food to Lee Know.

  
  


(“You don’t want any?”

  
  


“No, you can have it. I’m not hungry.”)

  
  


And as they sit together, Jisung examining Lee Know’s features as he dives into his food with all the caution of a lion who’s been starved for two days and just received a batch of fresh meat, he can’t help but think, somehow, that as soon as he decided to meet Lee Know — no, before that, as soon as Lee Know joined the mafia — a series of events were set in motion that could very much destroy Seoul. A man who holds the fate of an entire city in his hands, sitting right before him, and he doesn’t even know about his power.

  
  


Jisung smiles and closes his eyes, relaxing in his seat. He’s perfectly happy — curious, even, to watch the world burn.

  
  


How beautiful will the flames be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enemies to friends to lovers is still true btw ;)


End file.
